A March Week in Passau

Sitting across from the dining table from me

… I heard Susi say nostalgia is the most beautiful form of pain. I bat an eye to her, captivated by that sentence she just read from the internet. It’s funny how one’s feelings are always interconnected and how the dots always connect with life surrounding you. I sat there staring out the window marvelling at the weather of Passau, feeling somewhat nostalgic, which I had been feeling for the past couple of days.

Lately, the weather has been behaving like our moods and emotions. I experienced many seasons and weathers in the same thirty minutes.

In the mornings, you look out the window

… and gleam at the yellow of the sun, feeling elated. Amidst the wind that pecks a cold kiss on your cheek, the sun feels like an old friend embracing you in warmth. You just wish to sit idly by the river, eyes closed, and feel the momentum of this glorious balance. The specks of red you see with your eyes closed are letting you know that the sun is here to stay for long. Just a minute has passed by while you soak this intensity in, dark clouds have surrounded the gleeful sun and it disappears behind the greyness of these cotton candies. Your eyes fixed on the clouds, noticing how heavy it is for them to bear the burden of what it holds inside. With an abrupt jolt, they let out a sudden cry.

Without a thought, the clouds let out the rain. Their cry makes you feel blue, a little like the sky, but more like the ocean. Nostalgia hits you differently when it rains. It’s colder and runs its shiver down your spine and you feel something churn in your belly – that feeling of all the moments you want to return to. Moments later you realise that the heaviness of the cold that these clouds bore has turned into something breath-taking. A speck of it falls on your jacket. You touch the snowflake. You begin to feel even colder. But the glorious view in front of you is something you can not take your eyes off from. Everything, white. Too much white never existed, I could hear myself say. It feels like Christmas all over again. When the snow falls on you, to make you cold, you take that flake and press it between your fingers, and it melts to your warmth. At that moment you realise, the warmth that the humans possess is enough to melt away the heaviness of the troubles that touch you to make you cold.

This week in Passau, nostalgia held a good grip on me. But this week is Passau, I saw movements in nature that I had never experienced before.